


Mirror Mirage

by Cydersyrup



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - School, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Body mutilation, Childhood Trauma, Corruption, Dark, Dark Humor, Dissection, Dubious Morality, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Dynamics, Human Experimentation, Inappropriate Humor, Kidnapping, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Moral Ambiguity, Multi, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, READ THEM TWICE, Reality Bending, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Starvation, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Trauma, Underage Rape/Non-con, Violence, read the tags, seriously, this is very very dark y'all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cydersyrup/pseuds/Cydersyrup
Summary: Mark knows absolutely nothing. Nothing about the world, nothing about people like him, and nothing about the blood staining his hands and the bodies lying dead at his feet.All he knows is:There are people out to kill himA man named Taeyong LeeA school called Neo Culture PolytechnicMark has never met Taeyong Lee. He has never been to Neo Culture Polytechnic.But he finds them both.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Nakamoto Yuta, Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 35
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all I cannot stress this enough, but READ THE TAGS. DO IT. KNOW WHAT YOU'RE GETTING YOURSELF INTO.  
> This work is PURE FICTION. I do NOT condone ANY OF THIS, and I am not projecting anything from this story to the people who these characters are based off irl.  
> Some themes in this story can be very triggering and traumatizing to many people, so viewer discretion is STRONGLY ADVISED. I do not intend to cause anyone out there harm with this fic. This is PURELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT. If any of these subjects listed in the tags bothers you, then please, don't read this.  
> I'm warning you all right now. Choosing to read this fic is YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY, and it's on you if you choose to continue reading this.  
> And if you do choose to read this, I hope you enjoy it, but please, if you start feeling uncomfortable or unsettled, take the time to take care of yourself. This is not real. None of this is real.

The nurse who visits him this time is prettier than the rest. She has a small face and pale skin that contrasts sharply with her long black hair, and when she stands, her head barely reaches Mark’s shoulders. She nods at the strange men decked in combat gear outside the heavy door, and turns to him with a smile. Mark automatically likes her more than the other nurses.

“Hello, Mark,” she greets in a soft, gentle voice, setting down a tray with a bowl and syringe on the table across from Mark’s bed. “It’s time for your meal and medicine.”

“I don’t want it.” Mark steps away from the table and moves as far away from the nurse as possible. He doesn’t like mealtimes. He hates his medicine. It makes him nauseous and he always blacks out afterwards.

So Mark skips his meals. The medicine is inevitable, but taking it on an empty stomach is better than eating and throwing everything back up again. He doesn’t know how many days he’s gone without eating—three, four, five?

He can’t remember how long.

Mark doesn’t feel hunger. Time is an illusion in this white room he’s confined in. Sometimes he’ll close his eyes for what feels like thirty seconds and finds out later that an entire day has passed by. Other times he’ll sleep and sleep, and when he wakes up, he’s told that only a couple hours have gone by.

“Mark, please. You need to eat.” The nurse picks up the bowl and walks over carefully, like she’s approaching a wild animal. “It’s been over a week, Mark. Please. You’ll starve yourself to death.”

 _A week?_

Mark looks down at his wrist, noticing how the bone sticks out sharply against his skin. Now that he thinks about it, his clothes feel baggier on him, the white shirt hanging off his skinny shoulders and pants sagging down on his narrow hips.

“I’m not hungry,” he insists, backing away from the pretty nurse.

“It’s just some porridge, Mark. It’s easy to digest.”

“I’m not hungry,” he repeats, ducking past the spoon aimed at him and hiding behind his IV rack. “I said I don’t want it.”

The nurse sighs. “Mark, please—”

 _“Mark,”_ a disembodied voice crackles over the intercom. Mark winces as the audio feedback makes his ears ring. _“Eat your food and take your medicine, son.”_

“I don’t want the food,” Mark says with finality, plopping himself back onto his bed and crossing his thin arms over his chest. “If you’re going to drug me, just do it. I’m not eating anything.”

_“Mark—”_

“I said, I’m not eating.” Mark glares up at the speaker on the ceiling defiantly. “Not. Doing. It.”

The intercom is silent for a minute, before a sigh passes through. _“Very well, suit yourself. Annie, you may administer the medication now.”_

“Yes, sir.” The nurse, who he now knows as Annie, sets aside the bowl and picks up the syringe. Mark doesn’t move from where he sits as Annie approaches him. The liquid inside the syringe is an unnatural shade of blue, and Mark shudders at thinking what could possibly be in that concoction.

“Relax for me, Mark.” Annie disinfects Mark’s neck with an alcohol swab and positions the needle just under his jaw. “This won’t hurt, I promise.”

“I never feel it anyways,” Mark murmurs numbly. The nurse’s eyes go wide, and Mark turns his head to look her in the eye, feeling a small sense of smugness at the look on her face. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

Annie tightens her grip on the syringe. “W-well yes. I started last week,” she stammers, looking almost shyly at the floor.

“Figures.” Mark turns his head back and stares at the white, empty wall across the room. “You know absolutely nothing.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Just get it over with,” Mark sighs, tilting his neck for better access. “Stick me with the needle. I’m tired.”

That’s a lie. 

Mark doesn’t feel tired. He doesn’t feel much of anything. But he knows that the nurses won’t leave until he receives his medicine, and that he’ll pass out shortly after. Then he’ll wake up with his limbs chained to a metal table as a bunch of doctors with their faces covered poke and prod at him, amongst other things he doesn’t even want to think about. After they’ve thoroughly examined him, he’ll be let back into his room.

Rinse and repeat.

He feels the needle piercing through his skin, but he doesn’t feel the liquid being injected. After a couple seconds, Annie pulls the syringe away and sets it back on the tray.

“Alright, you’re all done.”

The nausea comes as Mark expects it to, and he stretches himself out into a lying position on his bed to make it slightly more tolerable. He wants to throw up, but there’s nothing in him to vomit out, so Mark lays there, breathing deeply through his mouth to curb some of the sickness. Annie walks over to his bed, hooks a new IV bag onto the rack, and carefully inserts a clean needle into a vein on the back of his hand.

“Rest well, Mark,” she says, giving Mark’s head a gentle pat. The gesture is soft, fleeting, and wholly unfamiliar, but Mark decides that he likes it.

“It’s been nice knowing you, Annie,” Mark says as black starts edging his vision. The room feels like it’s spinning on its axis, even though he knows he’s lying perfectly still in bed. It’s a familiar feeling, and Mark takes some comfort in the routine.

Annie smiles, but her face starts to blur into the ceiling. “It’s been nice knowing you too, Mark.”

He doesn’t know what drives him to say such a thing, but Mark opens his mouth, and a voice he faintly recognizes as his own says, “You’re too good to be working in a place like this.”

There is a silence that stretches on afterwards. It lasts a couple seconds—maybe a whole minute—before Mark gets a reply.

“What do you mean?” Annie’s voice is barely a distant echo. The ceiling is turning black and everything is fading away.

“It means,” Mark slurs, tilting his head a fraction towards where he assumes the nurse to be. “You’re nice.”

There is another pause, before Annie’s voice replies, “Well, thank you.”

Mark turns his head back and closes his eyes. His mind is steadily drifting into unconsciousness, and the nausea ebbs away as he falls asleep.

“Goodnight.”

_Goodnight..._

_Goodnight._

_Goodnight, Mark._

_Mark..._

* * *

When Mark wakes up again, he’s standing. The room he’s in feels and smells faintly like his own, but it’s hard to tell, because all he could see is a haze. He gives his arms an experimental flex, and finds to his surprise that they’re not chained down to a metal table. His legs, too. He can move around freely.

That’s strange. Mark never gets to move around freely after he wakes up. 

Then, his vision comes into focus.

His hands are covered in red. The liquid is sticky against his skin and smells metallic. The same red fluid is drenching his clothes, and spattered all over the white room he’s in. 

Mark looks down, and oh, _oh_ —

There’s Annie in her white nurse’s outfit, lying sprawled out on the floor, her long black hair spread out in a curtain around her. Her clothes are stained in the same red that drenched Mark, and her chest cavity is open and empty. Mark walks over to Annie, and by some sense of morbid fascination or curiosity, looks into her chest.

“Where’d it go?” he wonders to himself, staring through the shattered remains of the nurse’s ribcage and down the hollow cavity to her spine. “Where’s all the stuff?”

A strange feeling pools inside Mark’s stomach, and he stands up again, looking around the room. There are three men in black combat gear slumped by the open door, their bodies also bloody with pieces missing. On his bed is another man wearing a lab coat, but Mark doesn’t know if he recognizes him, because the man’s head is gone. The once-pristine white floor is covered in blood and bits of flesh and entrails. Mark looks down at his bare, blood-soaked feet, and then at Annie, and finally at the door.

Mark turns away from the door and walks over to his bed. He wipes away the guts and shoves the headless body off, before grabbing the sheets and tugging them clean off the mattress. He brings them over to Annie, and crouches down next to her for a better look.

Annie’s eyes are wide open, the phantom of her last, horrifying moments reflecting dully in the black orbs. Her mouth hangs open in a frozen gasp, her lips darkening with drying blood. Even in death, she is beautiful. 

Too beautiful.

Mark carefully slides her eyes shut and covers her body with the sheet.

“Rest well,” he murmurs, patting Annie on the head as gently as the nurse had done to him. He allows himself just another brief moment of silence, before standing up and giving the room one final, contemplating look.

The door is still wide open, with streaks and spots of blood all over it, and Mark steps over the bodies piled near it as he walks outside.

The hallway he enters into is even worse. The linoleum floor is flooded with blood, and the heavy metallic scent hits Mark like a wave. There are bodies dressed in white slumped against doors, bits and pieces of human remains splattered across the walls, and limbs strewn hazardously all over the place.

Mark sees what looks like a leg dangling off a metal cart as he exits the hall and enters a large, open room that he remembers as the ‘Waiting Room’. There are a couple rows of chairs and a television on the far wall. A couple potted plants and a bathroom near a large set of glass doors.

The chairs are overturned, dripping with red. All around him, Mark sees more and more bodies. Some are without limbs, some headless, others with their chests blown open like Annie.

Mark doesn’t think he knows anyone. Not in this place, anyways. He maneuvers past the carnage in the Waiting Room and pushes against the large glass doors. They give easily, and suddenly, Mark finds himself standing outside. 

The sunlight is warm and blinding, and there’s a nice breeze that ruffles his hair and makes his clothes billow behind him. The air is clean and smells like warmth compared to the sterile air inside his room. Mark breathes it all in, feeling himself smile at finally being outside.

He opens his eyes, and suddenly the world comes crashing down on him again. 

The courtyard he’s standing in is no different than the outside. Red stains the green trees and plants surrounding the area. Human remains litter the concrete ground everywhere he looks.

Red.

So much red.

It’s horrifying. The feeling is unsettling and strange, and all Mark feels for a second is his stomach dropping inside him. Cold sweat beads at the back of his neck and for a moment, all he can think of is how alone he is.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Mark knows that he had caused this, and that he is not safe here. They will come for him like they did in the past. Like when they first brought him here.

He needs to find someone who will protect him.

Mark runs out of the courtyard as fast as he can. The road stretches on and on, taking him past identical gray buildings and houses until Mark comes to a large, empty piece of grassy land. Beyond the tall grass, he can see a line of dark trees and yellow mountains.

“Where am I?” Mark looks around. He has never seen this area before. He doesn’t know any of the buildings that he ran past or the landscape that greets him. All he can remember is white.

White rooms, white clothes, white lights.

Then nothing.

A single name appears in Mark’s memory—a name he swears he never even heard of before.

_Taeyong Lee._

Mark has never met a person called Taeyong Lee, but he knows that whoever this Taeyong person is, he’ll be the one to keep Mark safe.

And he knows that Taeyong Lee is not here. 

Not in this area, this town, this region.

But somehow, Mark knows _exactly_ where to find him. He turns towards the mountains, looking at the sparse spots of trees dotting its dry surface, the tall electrical towers that lead all the way down into the neighboring city, and lets out a breath.

It’s now or never.

Somewhere above him, a black bird flies past, letting out a loud, ugly screech. It’s large and its feathers are a shade of black Mark has never seen before in his life. They’re dark—too dark—and glossy. Mark watches with a mixture of awe and glee as the bird gracefully coasts by, floating in midair for a quick spell before descending lower. It lands on a branch of a tree not too far away and preens its feathers, then lifts its head, and Mark gets the strange feeling that the bird is somehow _watching_ him.

 _Telling_ him something.

There’s a moment when the raven seems to shake its head at him, and Mark watches as it shoots off the branch and flies towards the trees across the field, wings spread gracefully and gliding through the air. Then, without even realizing that he’s moving until the tall grasses nick at his skin, Mark takes off after the bird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "After a while, all the drugs feel the same."


	2. Chapter 2

_‘This just in, we’ve received word that the North American branch of the SM Laboratories has been destroyed. Authorities are shocked upon discovering nothing but human remains within the vicinity, and it appears that the lab’s prime experimental subject, Subject M099, is missing. The public is to be warned that Subject M099 is an extremely dangerous—’_

The television shuts off abruptly, pitching the room into dead silence. The remote lies untouched on the coffee table, away from the five men standing around a large mahogany desk.

Someone sighs.

“So that’s the one we’re looking for?”

“We’re not _looking_ for anyone, Yuta,” the tall, thin-faced man next to him corrects. “We’re waiting for them to arrive.”

“How do we even know they’ll find us?”

“They will. They always do.” The thin-faced man turns to the large desk before them, where another figure sits, back facing the others. 

“Isn’t that right, Headmaster?”

The man behind the desk doesn’t talk, but a pale, beringed hand raises, and waves towards the door. Almost immediately, the other men jolt to attention. The one named Yuta flicks open a knife and throws it at the same time a fountain pen shoots itself off the desk. Both objects impale themselves on opposite sides of the doorframe, where another man stands, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“It would be nice if I may enter without having my eyes taken out,” the man by the door says dryly, reaching out to pull the knife and pen out from the doorframe. “Especially when I need them to do my job.”

“Kun,” the man sitting at the desk greets.

Kun nods in return. “Headmaster, and…” He shoots Yuta with a distasteful glare. “...company.”

“What’s the news, Kun?”

“I’m sure it has absolutely everything to do with the media frenzy, but when I finished teaching my class, I had a feeling another one of us will be coming here soon.”

“How far away?”

“Eight, eight and a half kilometers away. They crossed the first border about an hour ago.”

“I see.” The Headmaster stands and turns towards the men behind him. “Jaehyun, Yuta.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Prepare a room and some food for our new arrival. They must be exhausted.”

“Right.” The two men exchange a glance and exit without another word.

“Doyoung.”

The thin-faced man looks up. “Yes, sir?”

“Take Johnny to greet them. Make sure they’re comfortable and taken care of.”

Doyoung gives a short nod before both he and a tall, darkly-dressed man exit the room as well.

Kun watches them leave, before turning back to the Headmaster. “They’re powerful.”

“They always are.” A sigh passes from a pair of cracked, pursed lips. “It takes a special kind of power to find us. Our borders don’t just accept anyone.”

Kun picks up a cigarette from the antique brass box atop the Headmaster’s desk and watches as a flame appears from thin air to light it. He presses the stick to his lips and takes a long drag, letting out the smoke in long, gray wisps.

“And what about the rest of the world?”

“That’s a bloody war they started amongst themselves.” The headmaster picks up his own cigarette and Kun watches silently as the same phantom flame lights it. “Who do they have to blame?”

* * *

Mark doesn’t know where in the world he is.

It feels like he’s been running for days. His chest heaves for air as he leans against a tree to catch his breath. Up above him, the raven perches on a long branch, watching him with its beady black eyes.

The blood has dried on him a long time ago, making his clothes rough and stiff, and his feet are blistered, red, and swollen from running barefoot for so long. They don’t hurt, but whenever Mark moves them, they drag like dead weight and slow him down.

He is tired.

Mark looks up at the raven and sighs. “You can fly.”

The raven tilts its head, as though to say, ‘Well, isn’t that obvious?’

“It must be nice to fly.” 

The raven lets out a low squawk and preens itself. 

“Where are you taking me, Mr. Bird?” Even as he’s asking the question, the answer registers faintly at the back of Mark’s mind.

_Taeyong Lee._

“How much farther is it?” Mark asks, feeling slightly better now that he’s gotten some rest. “When will we be there?”

The raven stares at him silently, before turning its back to Mark and spreading its wings.

Mark brushes the dirt off his hands and watches as the bird takes off again. He pushes himself off the tree and chases after it, hopping over fallen logs and tearing past thickets of bushes.

The raven flies fast, but never far. It stops and stays every couple hundred meters or so and waits for Mark to catch up. Then it flies off again, and Mark sees its graceful body fade from view before coming back into focus, clear as day.

He likes the raven. The bird holds a certain kind of mystery about it, from the calculated distances it flies to the way it looks at Mark, like it knows what he’s thinking. 

Maybe it does.

They travel for another long while, and the scenery of forest and woodland gradually fades into a clearing. The mountains beyond the clearing look nothing like the ones Mark saw when he left the institution he lived in. The peaks are white with snow, all chiseled angles and sharp rock. A large lake swallows up most of the open space in the clearing, its black waters rippling peacefully and reflecting the mountain on its surface.

The raven lands on a fallen log a couple meters away from the edge of the water and looks at Mark expectantly.

“Is this it?” Mark walks over to the bird, feeling the gravel and small rocks press against the soles of his feet. He sits on the log, feeling the worn, smooth wood under him. “Mr. Bird, is this the place?”

The raven approaches him tentatively before butting its head against Mark’s arm. Its feathers are soft and surprisingly warm as Mark raises a hand to gently pet the raven’s head.

“Mr. Bird, I wish I could talk to you so you can tell me where we are.” Mark looks out at the lake, watching the sky steadily grow darker in its glossy surface.

“Are you alright, young man?”

Mark turns towards the unfamiliar voice, hands cradling the raven, which had made itself comfortable in his lap. The growing darkness makes it hard to see into the trees and beyond the lake, but he squints his eyes and tries to find any sign of movement from around him.

“Who’s there?” he calls. The raven in his lap jostles a little when Mark turns his head to look around him. “Who are you?”

From somewhere off on his left, a man appears. No, two men. The shorter of the two is holding a thin rod that glows a pleasant orange, lighting up both their figures and the area surrounding them. They are both dressed in long overcoats, with the shorter man wearing a navy blue one and the taller man wearing a pitch-black one. 

Mark looks between them, and tightens his hold on the raven, which makes no move to escape. “Who are you?”

“Hello,” the taller man greets. His hair is as black as the feathers of a raven’s, and the long fringe covers his right eye. He smiles, and the action is soft and pleasant. “My name is Johnny. This man next to me is my friend Dr. Kim. We were sent to pick you up.”

Mark eyes them skeptically, his fingers drumming idly against the raven’s back. “I don’t know you.”

The man Johnny introduced as Dr. Kim arches an eyebrow. “But you do know someone associated with us.” His eyes are sharp and almond-shaped, and Mark finds that he can’t seem to look away from them. “Isn’t that right?”

Mark feels himself nod before he can even fully realize what he’s doing. “Taeyong Lee. I don’t know who he is, but I know his name.”

“And what’s your name, young man?” Dr. Kim asks.

“I’m Mark.”

Johnny’s smile widens. “Well, Mark, Taeyong’s our boss. Would you like to meet him?”

“Where is he?”

“He’s right here, you know.” Johnny gestures to the nature around him. “Taeyong’s always watching. Listening. He’s here.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Mark deadpans.

“Is that right?” Johnny rubs his chin thoughtfully, before turning his one visible eye on Mark and smirking. “Is this really what you see?”

Mark nods. “Yes.” The log he is sitting on feels solid. The rocks underneath his feet poke against his skin. The air is cool and crisp as the sun sets behind the mountain, and the raven in his hands is a steady, warm weight. “Everything I see is real.”

“How are you so sure that what you see is real?” Johnny asks, moving to the other side of Mark’s vision. “You know, kiddo, your senses can deceive you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“People usually don’t understand the things they don’t see.” Johnny makes a beckoning motion with his hand, and the raven squirms out of Mark’s arms, flying straight at Johnny and perching on his outstretched arm.

Mark stands up, feeling strangely intrigued. “You know Mr. Bird?”

“Yes,” Johnny answers, giving Mark a kind, knowing look. “Quite intimately, actually.” He raises his other hand and lifts his fringe. Mark flinches when he sees an empty black hole stare straight back at him.

The raven squawks and flies off Johnny’s arm, before diving straight down towards his face. Its body twists and shrinks as it draws closer to the man, then melts right into his empty eye socket. Mark watches in amazement as Johnny blinks a couple times, both eyes dark and gleaming in the warm light.

“You’re Mr. Bird,” Mark breathes as the realization dawns on him. These people are not regular people, like the doctors and nurses back in the institution.

They’re different.

“I go by many names,” Johnny chuckles, flicking hair away from his face. “But yes, you can say I’m Mr. Bird. I was sent to escort you here.”

Mark frowns. “Where is ‘here’?”

Dr. Kim steps forward. “Mark, have you ever heard of a safe place for people with high-caliber Perks?”

Mark shakes his head, looking over the man uncertainly. “What are Perks?” he asks.

“Perks are what makes people like you, me, and Dr. Kim special,” Johnny explains, picking up a smooth rock and rolling it over in his hands. “Everyone’s Perk is unique, but there are some that are more... powerful.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“You will, soon enough.” Johnny turns and throws the stone into the lake. “What do you see?”

Mark sighs, motioning at the scenery around him. “I told you, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Not true. ‘Nowhere’ is still ‘somewhere’.” Johnny steps closer, until he’s right in front of Mark. “Look into my eyes,” he says. “What color do you see?”

“Black,” Mark answers easily.

“And what color is my hair?”

“Black.”

Johnny steps back, and stretches out his arms. “And what, Mark, do you see now?”

Mark looks around him. The entire landscape is suddenly vanishing, melting away from his sight like wax. The mountain shrinks into nothingness, and the lake disappears after a blink. 

Mark shifts, feeling around him, and finds that he could no longer feel anything under his feet. The ground he stands on is solid, but strangely cold. The only things he can see now are Johnny and Dr. Kim, illuminated by the small stick of light in Dr. Kim's hands.

“Black,” he mumbles, stumbling around the nothingness towards Johnny. “Where am I?”

“A safe place,” Johnny says. He’s much taller up close, and his arm comes around to wrap around Mark gently. It’s a strange, but comforting feeling. “Congratulations, Mark. You have arrived at NCT.”

Those letters sound vaguely familiar, though Mark can’t quite piece the meaning behind them together. “What is NCT?”

“Neo Culture Polytechnic,” Dr. Kim answers from their left. 

Mark frowns as the words ring in his mind. Bits and pieces of images flash before his eyes—a silver building, a hand with three rings, a flash of red and fire. He has never seen anything like them before.

“I think I know that place,” he whispers. “But I’ve never been there before.”

“Then we wholly welcome you,” Dr. Kim says as he walks into the darkness, raising his little light stick before him. “One-two-seven.”

“Irregular. Regular,” Johnny adds. Mark has no idea what the words mean, but right after Dr. Kim and Johnny finish, the world lights up again, and Mark has to cover his eyes from the blinding white light, pressing his face into Johnny’s coat.

 _‘Welcome, Professor Seo and Dr. Kim,”_ an automated voice says.

Mark slowly turns his head, blinking rapidly to help his eyes adjust to the light. They’re in a large, spacious room with a domed ceiling that looms over the glass walls surrounding them. White tables and couches form a square in the middle of it, and a large, open doorway across the room leads into a long hallway.

Johnny lets go of Mark and moves to stand in front of him. “Do you know where we are, Mark?”

“Yes,” Mark answers without thinking. His head feels strangely fuzzy and somehow, everything feels foreign and familiar at the same time. Johnny’s image keeps blinking and reappearing in his vision, and the whole world seems to suddenly spin. “This is Neo Culture Polytechnic.”

“A small part of it, but yes, you’re correct.” Johnny gives him a satisfied smile and gestures to the doorway, where Dr. Kim is waiting for them. “Welcome to your new home, Mark. From now on, you are one of us. We take care of our brothers and sisters here.”

Mark’s vision completely blacks out for a moment, and he faintly registers a voice echoing in his head. It doesn’t sound like Johnny or Dr. Kim, but he knows that he’s heard it somewhere before.

Familiar.

Comforting.

Cold. 

_“Good.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm more than an unkindness. I'm a man who's loved and lost."


	3. Chapter 3

The room Johnny and Dr. Kim lead Mark into is deep inside the new world Mark now officially knows as NCT. They’ve been walking for what feels like hours, taking countless twists and turns and more than two elevators in the building. No matter how far they walk, there never seems to be an exit in sight. The hallways are a pleasant shade of light blue lined with doors on both sides, some of which are propped open, while others remain tightly shut. 

There are rooms that look like the waiting room back at the institution Mark stayed at before, and some other rooms that look like the lab he used to wake up in after he takes his medicine. Neither brings good memories for him, and his face must have shown it, because Johnny suddenly swoops by his side, pulling open his coat to cloak Mark in.

“This must be very new to you,” Johnny says. His voice is soft and filled with a tenderness Mark isn’t sure what to do with. “We understand if you’re a little uncomfortable.”

Mark shrugs. “I’ve seen labs and waiting rooms before. It’s not new.”

Johnny gives him a funny look, but says nothing else as they continue to walk.

Mark stares at everything around him, taking in every detail of the walls, the furniture, the people he sees. For such a large space, there is a surprisingly low amount of people. Mark sees three, maybe four other men and women as Johnny and Dr. Kim leads him through NCT. They are all dressed in green and white, and seem to be talking to someone that Mark can’t see. 

Johnny suddenly stops. “We’re here.”

Mark looks up, eyeing the set of tall metal doors looming before them. Dr. Kim steps forward and takes off his coat. A plane of green light shines down from the ceiling, and scans him from head to toe, then left to right.

_‘Welcome, Dr. Kim.’_

The doors open with a click and low hiss, and Mark watches in awe as it gives way to a large courtyard. A large rectangular pool rests in the center of the scene, surrounded by small trees and gravel pathways, and beyond that, a multi-storied silver building shaped like a giant ‘U’ wraps around the entire vicinity.

“What is this?” Mark asks as Johnny gently coaxes him forward. “Johnny, where are we?”

“This is Neo Culture Polytechnic’s main dorming building,” Johnny explains. He points at the left side of the big U-shaped building. “The east wing are the secondary school dorms, and the west wing are the university dormitories. The south wing—” he points at the center of the building. “—are the bathrooms and kitchens.”

“We have some of our faculty waiting for you inside,” Dr. Kim adds as they cross the courtyard. “Remember, Mark, everything we do here is to help and protect you.”

“I know.” Mark doesn’t know what makes him feel so safe around these strangers in a place he’s never been before, but he welcomes it. The men lead him into the building, and in the grand lobby, they approach two other men. One is strikingly pale with faded pink hair, and the other has rust-orange hair and is wearing long gloves that reaches his elbows. 

The pink-haired man smiles. His face is kind and beautiful, and it reminds Mark suddenly of Annie. 

“Hello, I’m Jaehyun,” the man greets, sticking out a hand towards Mark. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Mark shakes Jaehyun’s hand timidly. “I’m Mark.”

“Welcome, Mark,” the man next to Jaehyun says with a broad grin. He’s also beautiful, though something about his features is strikingly wild. Almost animalistic, if Mark looks a little closer. “I’m Yuta. It’s nice having you with us.”

“Let’s get some food into you and some clean clothes.” Jaehyun rests a hand on Mark’s shoulder, and Mark lets him. “You must be hungry.”

“So skinny,” Yuta tuts, eyeing Mark with pity. “Don’t worry, kid. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of here.”

“We’ll leave him to you, then.” Dr. Kim nods at the two men before catching Mark’s gaze. His face softens and a small smile pulls at his lips. “Rest for now, Mark. There’s no need to run from here.”

Mark feels himself relax, even leaning a little against Jaehyun as Johnny and Dr. Kim leave. They head inside, and once again Mark marvels at the sheer grandness of the building. While the dormitory is sleek on the outside, the inside is filled with warm tones and large floor-to-ceiling windows. A couple teenage boys are lounging at a ring of couches in the middle of the room, and glance over when they hear them pass by.

“New guy?” One of them asks, standing up and crossing over to them. He is tall and bright-eyed, with an easy smile and pale hair. “Professor N, Dr. J, who’s this?”

“This is Mark,” Jaehyun says. “Mark, this is Jaemin. He’s one of our freshman university students here.”

“Nice to meet you.” Jaemin waves, and Mark waves back hesitantly. Nobody has ever seemed particularly happy to see him before. The experience makes his chest warm, but the warmth quickly leeches away when the other boy sitting with Jaemin comes forward.

“You’re new?” the boy asks flatly. His eyes are completely black—twin pools of darkness—and all Mark can remember seeing is Johnny’s empty eye socket.

“Yes.”

“I’m Jeno. Welcome aboard.” The boy smiles, narrowing his eyes into slits, and sticks out a hand. Mark shakes it. “I’d ask what happened to your clothes,” Jeno says. “But I don’t think questioning a guy literally drenched in blood is a good idea.”

“Jeno,” Jaehyun chides, and Jeno raises his hands, immediately backing away.

“I’m just saying.” Jaehyun’s stern look doesn’t go away, and Jeno hangs his head in apology. “Sorry, Dr. J.”

“We’ll talk later, Jeno,” Jaehyun says with finality before whisking Mark away from the two boys. “Forgive Jeno, Mark. He can be direct sometimes, but he doesn’t mean any harm.”

“It’s okay.” Mark thinks back to Jaemin and Jeno, at how normal they looked and how they approached Jaehyun and Yuta with such casualness. 

“What did they call you and Yuta?” he asks.

“Oh, Professor N and Dr. J?” Yuta laughs. “The kids here like giving us nicknames.”

“We’re teachers here at NCT,” Jaehyun adds. “When you’re recovered, Mark, you’ll join our classes.”

“What do you teach?”

Yuta and Jaehyun exchange a glance.

“Combat.”

“Defense.”

Mark frowns. “What?”

“You’ll understand when you start attending classes,” Yuta says. They enter a brightly-lit hallway, and Mark watches as Jaehyun steps in front of a white door with the number 7 printed on it in black. A green laser shoots out, scans his eye, and the door clicks open, swinging inwards to reveal a warm, fully-furnished room.

Mark looks around the space as he enters. Almost out of reflex, he reaches out—feeling the wall, the carpet, and the small desk and bed in the corner. The air smells different from the institution, without the antiseptic and stuffiness. And even though this room is smaller than the white room he used to be kept in, there is color. The walls are a pale blue, the carpet a soft cream, and the desk a natural woody brown. The blanket is soft, and the desk is fully stocked with pens, pencils, and notepads. There is also a small, flat screen in the middle of the desk, and a plate with a sandwich and mixed vegetables off to the side with a glass of water.

“Is this for me?” Mark points at the sandwich. 

Jaehyun smiles and nods. “Eat, Mark. The showers are just down the hall, and we’ve got clean clothes for you on the bed, and shoes right by the closet. After you’re done, just call for either me or Yuta, and we’ll come bring you to meet the Headmaster.”

With a final glance and a bit of head-rubbing from Yuta, the two teachers leave, and Mark stands alone in his new room. He stares at the sandwich, raises it to his lips, and takes a bite.

Just as he expects, the sandwich tastes like nothing, but it has a better mouth-feel than the goopy porridge he used to be forced to eat. Swallowing a mouthful of chewed food stretches his throat in a weird way Mark isn’t used to, but he forces another bite in and gulps down the water. He finishes both the sandwich and vegetables and feels over his stomach, where a foreign bump has appeared. It looks a bit funny over his shirt, like a ball is lodged where it shouldn’t be, and Mark runs his fingers over it, feeling the taut skin and the firm, rounded lump underneath.

Still marvelling over his distended stomach, Mark strips off his bloodied shirt and picks up the clothes on the bed, before heading in the direction Jaehyun said were the showers. There’s a door with ‘showers’ labeled across its silvery surface, and Mark enters tentatively, eyes exploring the space from floor to ceiling.

The room itself is large, with clean white walls and matching tile floors. Rows of sinks line the walls on either side of Mark, and right in front of him, a neat row of shower stalls stand. A shelf stocked with towels and toiletries rests off side by the sinks, and Mark feels his way towards them, running his hands over the smooth plaster of the wall and the stone countertops of the sinks. He grabs a towel, squeezing the plush fabric once, twice, and takes a bar of soap. It smells sweet, sweeter than anything he used in the institution.

The water is warm when it washes over Mark, and he takes his time scrubbing away the dirt and blood caked on his skin. He scrubs at the dirty areas until he bleeds, and that’s the only indication Mark has to move to a different spot on his body.

The clothes are a bit large on him, but the fabric is soft and cool against his skin. The shoes are a pair of soft cloth slippers, and Mark thinks that he could be stepping on clouds when he slides his feet into them. Walking with his feet covered feels foreign, but it’s not an uncomfortable trek back to his room.

And once he’s settled back into the space designated for him, Mark faces the door and calls for Jaehyun.

Within seconds, there’s a knock on his door, and Jaehyun steps in. “Are you ready to go, Mark?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Jaehyun holds out an arm, and Mark takes the cue to step forward, letting the man’s arm envelop his shoulders in a loose hold. 

They walk out of the dormitory building, and the first thing Mark sees in the courtyard is Johnny, standing tall in his heavy dark coat. Besides him is a shorter man, with a shock of pure white hair and dressed in a suit just as bright. When he glances over towards them, Mark notices that the man’s eyes are several different colors, all at once. They flash and change with every blink, every second that passes, and Mark thinks that it’s the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

“Mark, meet Taeyong Lee, headmaster of NCT,” Jaehyun introduces as the white-haired man steps forward.

“It’s a pleasure to welcome you to our family, Mark.” Taeyong stretches out a hand, and Mark takes it. “I heard from Johnny that you knew about me and NCT beforehand.”

“Yes.” Mark stares into Taeyong’s eyes, watching the colors flicker and change. “Your eyes are pretty.”

Taeyong smiles, and somewhere behind him, Johnny chuckles. “Thank you, Mark. Have you eaten, by the way? Are you comfortable?”

“I ate.” Mark thinks back to the tasteless sandwich and how it made a weird bump on his stomach. “It made a bump on my stomach.”

Taeyong’s eyes flicker down to where Mark is pointing, and his face visibly saddens. “I see. I can’t understand what you’ve been through before, Mark, but we promise you, none of that will matter anymore.” He stands up straighter and hands Mark a thin bracelet.

“This is your identification watch. It will grant you access to all the school’s facilities here and keeps track of your vitals. You’ll begin classes starting two days from now. But as of the moment, just take your time to rest and learn your way around here. All the teachers and I are available if you need help with anything.”

Mark looks down at the bracelet and back up at Taeyong’s face. He feels like he’s missing something—a critical detail to this encounter, but the details evade him every time he tries to think.

“Do I know you?” Mark finally asks. Taeyong’s eyebrows raise, and for a moment, he looks surprised, but the moment passes as fast as it came, and Taeyong’s face falls back into its calm expression.

“Why do you ask that, Mark?”

“A voice in my head kept telling me to find a man named Taeyong Lee,” Mark says plainly, never looking away from Taeyong’s eyes. “It told me to find you, and that you will protect me, but I don’t know why. I’ve never seen you before.”

Taeyong furrows his brows in thought, an action that immediately contorts his face into that of a completely different man. Wrinkles appear along the corners of his mouth and eyes, and his cheeks sink into themselves, until it is no longer a handsome young man Mark is looking at, but a wizened, elderly gentleman.

“Well, whatever brought you here, Mark, it was right in its judgement.” Taeyong smiles, and his face immediately reverts back into its youthful beauty. “All that matters is that you’re safe now. If you ever need anything, you let us know.” He reaches forward and gives Mark’s head a gentle pat, before turning his attention to Johnny. Mark watches as the two men speak in a language he doesn’t understand, before both nodding and walking away.

Mark watches them go, and reaches out to pull on Jaehyun’s sleeve.

“Yes, Mark?”

“What’s Taeyong’s Perk?” Mark points at Taeyong’s retreating form. “What makes him special?”

Jaehyun smiles. “Why, everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll see soon, Mark.”

Mark shakes his head. “I don’t want to see it soon, Jaehyun. Why can’t I know now?” 

Jaehyun chuckles and ruffles Mark’s hair gently. “Well, you see Mark, some things I can’t explain, no matter how hard I try. You’ll just have to see it yourself to understand.”

“When will I see it?”

The smile Jaehyun flashes at him is gentle, but tinged with an emotion that Mark can’t make out. He ruffles Mark’s hair once again, before stretching out his arm. And like a magnet near metal, Mark gravitates towards Jaehyun, resting flush against his side as the man leads them back inside the building.

He doesn’t say anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What you already know, I am in no place to tell."


	4. Chapter 4

Mark tries to sleep the rest of the day, though it’s a lot harder to fall into that empty dark space without the help of the drugs. He’s just lying there—under the soft covers of his bed, eyes closed and listening to pure silence. The mattress here is nicer than the thin, firm one he slept on at the institution. Mark can feel his body sink slightly into its spongy surface, and the pillow under his head reminds him of the feathers on the raven he once held. 

Everything here is so, so comfortable.

And yet, Mark can’t sleep.

He almost misses the quick, easy descent into nothingness after taking the drugs, if it isn’t for the intense nausea that always comes beforehand.

It must be night outside, Mark thinks. There’s no light shining past the curtains covering his windows. He can’t hear any movement outside his door from any other residents. If there even are any residents living by him in this giant building. So far Mark’s only met two.

Jeno and Jaemin. A boy with black holes for eyes and a boy with a happy face. Mark thinks he can remember them well enough to tell them apart if he ever sees them again. Which, according to the Headmaster, he should have plenty of time to do so. It’s not like he has anywhere else to go right now, anyways.

_“Can’t sleep?”_

Mark startles, shooting up in bed and looking around the room for the source of the voice. It’s hard to decipher the details of his room in the dark, but it’s clear after a minute of searching that he’s alone in this space.

A brief bout of white noise echoes inside Mark’s ears, and that’s all the warning he gets before the voice is back, soft and fleeting.

_“Don’t be scared, Mark. It’s just me.”_

“Dr. Kim,” Mark whispers into the shadows. “Are you...are you in my room?”

 _“No, Mark. But I can hear you just fine,”_ Dr. Kim’s voice says, not unkindly. _“Do understand, it’s my duty to ensure our students’ safety. So you’ll be hearing me like this quite often. Excuse the entry, though. That might’ve been a little uncalled for.”_

“Oh, uh...it’s okay.” Mark settles back down, lacing his fingers over his chest. He closes his eyes, but sleep isn’t any closer than it was an hour or a couple hours ago. All he sees is black, and his thoughts are still a jumbled mess of faces and names and pure confusion.

_“What’s on your mind, Mark?”_

Mark blinks open his eyes. “Can’t you hear my thoughts, Dr. Kim?”

 _“To be honest with you, yes, but it’s never a clear train of thought,”_ Dr. Kim replies. _“My abilities limit me there. All I know now is that you’re awake, and you really need your rest.”_

“I’m trying,” Mark mutters up to the ceiling. Somehow, this reminds him of the intercom and cameras from the institution, with the eyes watching him and the garbled voices that would suddenly speak from seemingly nowhere.

But it’s also different.

Dr. Kim’s voice is soothing. There’s no feeling of being constantly watched or listened to. Mark can almost picture the man standing right by his side, and he finds that it wouldn’t be completely unwelcomed company.

 _“Might I suggest a short walk?”_ Dr. Kim says. _“If you’re hungry, the kitchens are still open, and there’s snacks there. Perhaps a warm cup of milk or some herbal tea will help you sleep.”_

Mark thinks it over. He doesn’t feel hungry, or particularly thirsty. And this bed is so comfortable.

“I’m not hungry, Dr. Kim. I just...” he sighs. “I just want to sleep.”

_“Well, I’m not sure if I can be any help in that department, but is there anything I can do for you, Mark?”_

“Your voice is nice,” Mark murmurs, and he means it. He wants to hear more of Dr. Kim’s voice, when it’s relaxed and not clashing with his cold appearance. It’s a lot different than the voices he used to hear back at the institution. There’s no command in Dr. Kim’s tone, no deliberate calmness or feigned kindness. It makes a sense of peace wash over him, clothing him in a security so different from imprisonment.

“Can you talk to me more, Dr. Kim?” Mark asks. He wants to hear it again. He wants to feel it again. “I like your voice. Will you talk to me?”

 _“Of course.”_ Dr. Kim’s voice lowers to a softer pitch, and Mark imagines the man cradling him to his chest. Of all the people he’s met so far in NCT, Dr. Kim is the only one who Mark has had no physical contact with. He wonders what it would be like to shake the man’s hand, and how his arm would feel gently wrapped around Mark’s shoulders like Jaehyun and Johnny’s have. 

_“What would you like me to talk to you about, Mark?”_

“Can you tell me about NCT?” Mark closes his eyes, focusing on the voice inside his head. “I want to know what this place is.”

 _“Well, that’s simple enough,”_ Dr. Kim replies. _“NCT is a school. Well, more like a miniature society, if I’m being completely honest. Our job here is to rescue, shelter, and educate people with powerful Perks.”_

“Why do people with powerful Perks need to come here?” Mark asks.

_“The world is a dangerous place, Mark. The majority never likes it when the minority proves more powerful than they will ever be.”_

“Who are the majority?”

 _“People, like you and me.”_ There’s a short pause. _“But they’re not good people, Mark. They’ve hurt many of us before. And we all just want a better life. For most, if not all of our students here, this is the only home they’ve ever known.”_

Mark opens his eyes again. “Will this be my home too, Dr. Kim?”

_“If you wish it to be.”_

“I like it here so far.” Mark pulls his blankets tighter around him, shutting his eyes to darkness once more. “Everyone is so good to me.”

Dr. Kim’s voice sounds inquisitive as he asks, _“Why wouldn’t people be good to you, Mark?”_

“I’m dangerous." The words roll off Mark's tongue almost too easily. “People back at the institution tell each other that all the time, when they think I can’t hear them. I can, but I can’t say anything about it.”

“I’m sorry you had to experience that,” Dr. Kim says softly. Sincerely. Mark appreciates the earnesty in his voice.

“It’s okay,” Mark mutters, burrowing further into the blankets. “I don’t know what I did wrong, but I was kept locked up for a long time. Were you ever treated like that, Dr. Kim?”

_“Treated like what, Mark?”_

“A threat.”

_“Every day of my life.”_

“Can you ever go outside? Can you see the world outside NCT?”

_“Never without consequences.”_

Dr. Kim is honest. He doesn’t tell Mark some made-up fantasy about the world outside, like the doctors used to in the institution. Mark may have been sheltered practically his entire life, but he knows a lie when he hears one. There’s just something inside him that distinguishes the fiction from the truths. Sometimes he feels like he’s seen the world already.

And yet, he knows so little about it.

“Dr. Kim?”

_“Yes, Mark?”_

“Where did you use to live, before you came to NCT?”

 _“A city,”_ Dr. Kim says quietly. There’s a strain in his voice that Mark can’t quite make out the meaning of. _“A beautiful city.”_

“Tell me about the city, Dr. Kim.”

 _“Well, from what I remember, it used to snow there a lot,”_ Dr. Kim begins. _“There’s always lights strewn about, so when the night comes, it’ll look like the air is filled with stars. It’s never warm there, and the buildings never reach higher than four, maybe five stories. It’s not a horribly big city, but it was big enough. You can see a face in the streets once and never see it again for the rest of your life. It wasn’t known for much, and it wasn’t a very populated place, but it had the loveliest view of the mountains, and a little bridge over a small lake…”_

Sleep is coming now, gently pulling Mark into its comforting embrace, and he lets himself lose the battle as Dr. Kim’s voice gently lulls him into unconsciousness.

“Someday,” Mark mumbles right before the darkness completely submerges his mind. “Will you take me to see the city, Dr. Kim?”

There’s a faint hum, and the quiet whisper of an answer, but Mark falls asleep before he can make sense of what it is.

* * *

Doyoung sinks back against the pillows, bringing both hands up to his face. Even with the gestures, his lashes still dampen, then the tears start falling.

“Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it all.”

“What’s wrong?” an arm slings over Doyoung’s stomach, and a warm hand gently rubs at the tensed muscles there. “Who were you talking to?”

“The new kid, Mark.”

“Mark?” Yuta props himself on an elbow, watching Doyoung with those large, piercing eyes of his. “What about him? What’d you find out?”

“The poor boy has no idea what’s going on,” Doyoung mutters through his hands. “I doubt he understands the type of threat he poses for society at large.”

“You don’t know his Perk?”

“I don’t think he even knows it himself.”

Yuta frowns. “You can’t see into his memories?”

“No.” Doyoung drops his hands with a sigh. “Everything is just...a mess. There’s so much pain inside him, Yuta. So much sadness. Loneliness. Misery. And I don’t think he’s even aware of what he’s feeling.”

Yuta hums, shifting around in the bed so that he’s sitting up. “It sounds like something’s inside there.” He taps his temple for emphasis. “And whatever it is, it’s blocking you out. That, or it’s the effect of somebody else’s Perk.”

“Whatever it is, it’s completely hidden his mind from me,” Doyoung grumbles. “Maybe even from himself.”

“It’s possible,” Yuta says. “But _why_ is the question.”

Doyoung shrugs. “I don’t know. But whatever the reason, the intent’s clear enough. Someone—or something—is trying to protect him.”

“How do you know that it’s not just complete brainwashing?” Yuta asks. “We all know the kid was a human experiment in that godforsaken lab for who knows how long. What if those government bastards tampered with him?”

“I don’t know, Yuta.” The words taste bitter on his tongue, and Doyoung hates it. He’s not used to not knowing. His entire life is built on always knowing too much, and always being able to figure things out. And this—this boy has him in the dark, bound and blindfolded.

“Do you know what he asked me, Yuta?”

“What?”

Doyoung reaches over and takes Yuta’s hand in his own, feeling over the smooth metal panes and elegant ridges. “He asked me where I came from, and if I can ever take him to go see the place.”

Yuta’s eyes soften, and in them, Doyoung can see an old sadness. He feels it inside himself, throbbing and suffocating. It almost makes him regret ever mentioning what Mark told him.

“Did you tell him the truth?” Yuta finally asks.

“I told him what I could,” Doyoung chokes out as more tears well in his eyes. “I told him of the past. What it used to be. How beautiful everything was.”

“And?”

“And nothing else.”

The silence that follows is heavy, weighed with too many memories from a lifetime ago, and Doyoung forces it all into the back of his mind, shoving them into an iron chamber and barring them up. Maybe it’s better this way, he thinks. It’s better to never think about what had been than remembering that it never will be again.

“You know,” Yuta begins, looking at the door and eyes a million miles away. “He kind of reminds me of another kid we used to know, back in the day.”

“Don’t,” Doyoung hisses in warning. It’s too painful to think. To remember.

“We took him to your hometown once,” Yuta continues, not caring that Doyoung’s grip on his hand tightens to something that should be painful. “And mercy, how he loved it.”

Flashes of images light up the space behind his eyes, and Doyoung shakes his head, frantically corralling all those memories and shoving them into the iron chamber as fast as he can. “Stop.”

“You sang to him.” Doyoung jolts, and Yuta’s wrist twists clean off in his grasp. The other man doesn’t even react, still seeing into a past long gone. “Hell, I can’t even remember the song. Or the kid’s face. Or where exactly we were. But I remember holding him, and holding you.”

“Stop,” Doyoung says again, loosening his hold on Yuta’s hand just enough for the appendage to reconnect itself to Yuta’s arm. “That’s enough. What good is it to bring up something that doesn’t even exist anymore?”

Yuta sighs, the light finally coming back into his eyes. “Nothing’s ever certain. I’m holding onto that.”

“They’re gone, Yuta. Both of them.”

“Until I’m holding that baby’s dead body in my hands, I won’t believe it,” Yuta says with finality, flopping down and tugging the covers over his head. “Goodnight.”

Doyoung heaves a sigh and shuts off the lamp on the nightstand. “You can’t run from reality, Yuta. We’ve all tried. We failed.”

Yuta says nothing, body still and silent under the covers, but his voice rings loud and sharp inside Doyoung’s mind.

_‘You don’t get to say what’s real.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If my angel's not already in Heaven, I'll wait an eternity for them in Hell."

**Author's Note:**

> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/Cydersyrup)   
>  [twt](https://twitter.com/Cydersyrup)


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